


Man in a Candy Store

by morrezela



Series: Man in a Candy Store [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Hunters, M/M, Magic, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is an embittered huntsman out to rid the world of evil magic users, and the good mage Jared is on his hit list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man in a Candy Store

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Features kind of angry sex, mentions of attempted child abuse, attempted murder, talk of switching boys, but graphic top!Jensen. Also – tones of crack!fic. I mean it.
> 
> A/N: Written for the spnkink_meme prompt.
> 
> I strayed from the prompt a bit. More talking and feelings, less actual claiming sex. (Also, I have the feeling that maybe the anon wanted top!Jared, so sorry about that.)
> 
> All mistakes that you find are my own.

“Dude, you have got to make a run for it,” are the first words that Chad utters when Jared comes into his candy store for his bi-weekly sugar fix.

Jared arches an eyebrow at his sort of friend and continues towards the counter. He’s in the mood for chocolate today. Something dark and mysterious with maybe a chewy caramel center would be perfect. He’s not sure if he wants nuts in the caramel though. He might want the fruit flavored caramels instead. The raspberry are particularly delicious, but Chad never strains them before mixing in the fruit, and Jared isn’t sure if he wants to spend his time picking raspberry seeds out of his teeth.

“I’m not kidding, Jay. The huntsman cometh, and he cometh for you.” Chad intones ominously.

Jared sighs and rolls his eyes this time. “He’s hunting down evil witches that murder children and roast them. Forgive me if I’m not shaking in my boots or mourning their loss.”

“You’re a witch too.”

“For the last time, Chad: I. Am. A. Mage. Does the word ‘mage’ sound anything close to ‘witch’ to you?”

Jared considers the options in front of him. The peanut butter chews look fresh. They’d be great dipped in chocolate. Chad would totally go in the back and dip them if Jared asked nicely and paid through the nose for it.

“Ross isn’t going to care. He’s going to stab you through the heart with a silver pitchfork like he did old Mr. Smithers.”

“Old Mr. Smithers was a throwback to an old generation of werewolves. He was eating people’s hearts and snacking on men’s testicles. He got a kind death if you ask me.”

“They never proved that!” Chad protests, most likely because Mr. Smithers was a good customer with a particular fondness for Chad’s overly sweet cherry cordials.

Jared ignores him and starts eyeing the truffles. There are coffee flavored ones. Coffee would be good. Coffee would be essential. Coffee is the nectar of the gods and should be classified as a magical portent of good will towards mankind. It is a haven and an encouragement and is low in calories while providing fat burning caffeine, which he totally doesn’t need any more with all the…

“Chad, have you had a coffee addict in recently?”

“How the hell would I know? They turn clammy and get the shakes like crack addicts do?” Chad shoots back as he starts shoveling Jared’s usual order of chewy fruit snacks into a candy bag.

“No, I just… I think I’m just channeling somebody else’s emotions, you know? They’re pretty strong.”

“Oh, yeah. That’ll keep Ross from flaying you with his hunting knife. You can channel his epic hate and loathing of you right before he sets you on fire with that handy orb he took from the crone who used to live on Darkberry Way.”

“Again, I’m a mage. Power of the elements, remember? He tries to burn me, and I summon ice. Or I could just take the power of the fire over as my own. But seriously, Ross is a good guy. I mean, I would’ve loved for somebody to stop half these people years ago. You remember Ginger?”

“No. As you full well know, the old candy store owner sold this shit hole to my parents after those two kids shoved her in her own oven. Man, the size of that dude’s profit margins... You should see the money she used to spend in this place.”

“Gingerbread houses need a lot of maintenance. Sometimes it’s easier to go buy new candy instead of using your magic on them.” Jared comments as he leans down to squint at the orange swizzle sticks. Thankfully they still look gross to him. He wouldn’t be able to handle developing a sudden craving for them.

“Huh, I just thought she was shoveling the stuff in her mouth to power her mojo like the rest of you magic freaks do.” Chad says as he ties up the bag of fruit snacks and moves on to Jared’s usual order of sour ropes.

Jared looks up from the peppermint display to glare at Chad. “It’s a wonder you ever sell us anything when you refer to us as freaks.”

“I make damned good candy, and you can’t deny that you people need it. We’re in an unhealthy symbiotic relationship.”

“Symbiotic?” Jared asks skeptically.

“Bitch,” Chad accuses before changing the subject. “So you were saying something about the old witch that used to subsidize this place?”

“Ginger was a horrible old crone. She was force feeding those poor kids, and nobody could do anything about it. Hell, if she hadn’t made the mistake of feeding them enchanted food to get them to pork up faster, they would never have been able to defeat her. There wasn’t a hunter in the area back then. And poor Hansel, kid had the saddest damn eyes. You should’ve seen him trying to waddle his way back to town after he and his sister got free.”

Chad stops his motions to stare at Jared. “You saw Pork Chop and Piglet?”

“You know I hate it when you call them that. And I did. Hansel was a nice kid, okay? And my dad said that we couldn’t be friends anymore because Hansel’s parents didn’t want him near any magic users, and he was my best damned friend so, so… Yeah. Don’t call him that.”

Chad shrugs and he pushes a couple of licorice whips in a bonus baggy. It’s as close to an apology as Jared is going to get from him.

“Wasn’t Hansel older than you?” He asks as he finally, finally grabs his large chocolate box so that he can start working on Jared’s chocolate order.

“He was,” Jared confirms, “I was just always mature for my age.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are many things that Jensen enjoys about being a hunter. The fame and the adoration of pretty women and the occasional strapping man is the least of it. It is the joy in children’s eyes when they realize that they don’t have to be scared anymore. It is the relief in the widow’s eyes when she realizes she doesn’t have to sell her last chicken to pay the toll to the ogre that has been terrorizing her and her children. It is the sharp feeling of vengeance when he sees the ebb of evil take its last pulse in the world.

The endless walking he does? Jensen does not enjoy that. It sucks, but he makes himself do it anyway. Magical beings make slaves and get by with their heinous deeds because of their powers. A huntsman’s body has to be fit and fast to overcome lightning bolts and summoned pools of acid and swarms of venomous butterflies.

The male witch that he’s tracking down now seems to be a bit of a homebody. He doesn’t leave his house much. In fact, the only thing that he does of note is buy large amounts of candy.

Jensen doesn’t like to think about that. The witch that almost killed him had been a homebody with a candy penchant. While his sister went to counseling and gotten a dietician and moved on with her life, Jensen just has never been able to get past the whole ordeal.

One would have thought that the suffering would have ended with their escape, but Jensen had only been teased and ridiculed for his weight when he returned to the village. He was fat and trying to exercise it off by playing with the neighborhood children had only caused him to huff and puff like a wolfman trying to blow down a door to collect his ‘rent’ form terrified villagers.

The friend that he did make had turned out to be a witch in his own right. Jensen’s father had explained it all to Jensen. How the little boy with such innocent looking eyes was really one a magic user in training. He had probably been looking to enslave Jensen to him so that he could drain the residual magic out of his blood that the witch had put there with her enchanted food.

Just thinking about the malevolence inside of himself makes Jensen shudder. To hunt the supernatural, one has to walk a fine line. Magic gets inside of you, and sometimes the only way to destroy those with otherworldly powers is to use unnatural tools yourself.

It is a concern of Jensen’s, but he makes certain to never actively use any supernatural object unless he’s tried everything else first. He’s been known to take ten days for a kill just to avoid using an enchanted blade that would’ve gotten the job done in ten minutes.

Today hopefully won’t be one of those days, but it’s a witch. They’re nasty, vile buggers to kill. He chose to walk through the forest and come up on the man’s house through the backyard to gain the edge of surprise, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t well prepared.

Jensen has an entire arsenal shoved into the pockets of his pants and hidden under his jacket.

When he reaches the back door, he can hear caterwauling inside. At first he thinks it is some profane ritual, but the sounds of a radio and the poorly synched words inform him that the witch is really just a horrible singer.

He’s listening to the Beatles though, so at least he has decent enough taste in music. He’s also loud, and the sound covers Jensen’s entrance into the house and even allows him to make it into the kitchen unnoticed.

The lack of a locked door bothers Jensen. He knows that normal people don’t always have their doors locked when they’re awake and moving about their home, but witches aren’t normal people. They have deeds they need to keep hidden, and not locking the door is practically declaring that this witch is too badass to care about being caught.

Jensen’s hackles rise up at the thought. He isn’t the only one.

Apparently the evil witch owns two very large dogs who have no problem recognizing Jensen as an intruder. He dispatches of them easily enough, but he has to waste two sleeping charms on them. The stuff isn’t easy to get from a reputable source, but he would feel bad killing innocent animals especially when certain magic fiends like to turn people into dogs for pets. It would not be a good day if he succeeded in killing the witch only to find out that he’d enslaved somebody’s grandma into being a… whatever the hell it is that he just charmed to sleep.

If they really are just dogs, he’ll just take them to the animal shelter after he kills their master.

The witch looks kind of shocked when he comes around the corner to investigate the ruckus. It’s almost as if he honestly thought that an unlocked door and a couple of mutts were going to keep Jensen from getting to him.

“Ross?”

“Witch,” Jensen snaps in return greeting, loathing clear in his voice.

“Dude, I’m a mage. No blood in the cupboards, see?” All the doors in the kitchen fly open at a twitch of the giant man witch’s hands. (Jensen’s sister still laughs herself silly when he calls them that. He thinks she says something about canned sandwich filling; Jensen isn’t sure. That shit isn’t good for you, and he makes a habit of not noticing overly processed foods.)

Jensen growls at the display of power and throws himself at the evil thing masquerading as a totally hot piece of ass. Damned illusions screw with a guy’s mind. That’s why Jensen’s made a point of becoming focused in all he does. He can’t trust any of his senses to be completely honest with him when dealing with supernatural beings. He has to pay attention to and be suspicious of everything around him.

“Whoa!” Jared calls out, flinging his hands up, and Jensen literally freezes in mid air. There is a hand of ice sprouting out of the disturbingly green linoleum, and it is holding him in place.

“I’m not evil. Really, I’m actually kind of a fan.” The guy babbles and smiles all innocence and fucking sunshine.

Jensen, to his horror, feels his thrice damned cock twitch against his now cold and wet jeans. The fake, sunshiny smile brings out the man’s dimples, and Jensen’s always had a thing for dimples, but sporting wood for a witch is something he never does. Ever.

The fact that he doesn’t even have a layer to prevent his cock from the full chafing that the wet denim is going to give it just puts the low-fat avocado spread on his whole wheat bagel.

Freaking man witch and his ice. Freaking succubus who burned all his underwear. Freaking department store that ran out of his size of underwear.

Really? Who the hells runs out of men’s underwear sizes? He’d even been willing to buy briefs.

“You’re an evil, evil witch.” Jensen finally makes his mouth open and say. It’s a close thing. He almost begs the guy to come over and help him out of the wet confines of his jeans instead.

“Mage. Why can’t anybody get that I’m a mage? Also, I think that male witches are called warlocks.”

“I know that. I’m a huntsman, remember?” Jensen grumbles as he begins to wriggle. He’s been caught in ice traps before. They always suck, but they always melt more quickly than real ice does.

“So you don’t refer to them by their proper name because?”

“Because it’s insulting, you overly hot piece of ass.” Jensen blanches when he replays what he just said in his mind. “You ass, I meant…. You’re evil, and I’m going to come over there and gut you.”

The witch’s eyebrows both rise dubiously at his proclamation. “Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself?”

Jensen growls and lunges. The ice shifts, but it doesn’t lose its grip entirely.

The witch frowns at him and actually comes closer. Jensen’s heart starts beating in triple time, but it is somehow lacking the thrill of inevitable confrontation and violence. It’s more of a flutter, and his stomach is clenching with sexual anticipation instead of the sick roil of bloodlust.

A large hand trails over his face. Its touch is gentle, and Jensen has to fight against his instinct to lean into it. His neck muscles strain with the effort, and when a thumb travels close to his lips, he bites at it out of desperation.

The witch yanks his hand back. Hurt dances in his beautiful eyes. For the briefest of moments, sincere apologies well up from Jensen’s inner being. He squashes the feelings ruthlessly. He’s been sexually enchanted before. If he could conquer the spells and charms of both incubus and succubus, he can certainly defeat the magics of a witch.

“Mate,” the witch more breathes out than says. The hurt in his eyes is quickly fading to joy and wonderment.

Jensen’s heart nearly stops at that before it starts pounding in his ribcage. It’s practically chanting ‘yesyesyesyes’ over and over and over again. He’s never felt a spell get inside him like this. His whole being wants to be close to the witch. He wants to touch him and soothe his aches and steal sweet kisses from his lips. There’s lust boiling in his loins, but it’s the tenderness in the rest of him that is terrifying.

“Fuck you,” Jensen growls.

The witch apparently takes that as an invitation because he’s instantly back in Jensen’s space, tilting Jensen’s head up to take a kiss from his lips.

It’s good. It’s more than good. It’s damn near perfect, certainly the best kiss that Jensen’s ever had in his long and embittered existence. He almost cries at the way it makes him feel safe and loved, and H. Jensen Ross (nee Ackles before he divorced himself from the world of normalcy and took his hunting vows in the far off land of the Holly Woods) hasn’t felt so in tune with another person since he last saw that conniving bastard of a magic user Jared.

It crosses his mind to bite at the invading tongue, but before he can convince his jaw to act on the plan, the witch removes it. His overly large palms are cradling Jensen’s face, and his gaze feels like it’s boring into Jensen’s soul. Hell, for all Jensen knows, it really is doing that, and his sucker of a soul is going to explode into tiny pieces in seconds leaving a husk of a human body that the witch can use as his personal ghoul.

“Tell me your name.” The witch asks. It feels like a true question and not a compulsion. Jensen still knows better than to answer. Names have strong power, and giving a magical creature your own gives them something you don’t want your enemy to have.

Still, he gives it. Not Hansel, no that name has not been his in ages. He honors its memory, but that is no longer who he is.

“Jensen,” he whispers. His eyes flutter shut, and he loses his battle with his neck, finally arching into the warm touch on his face.

The ice disappears around him, and he stumbles forward. The witch keeps him from falling, instead pulling Jensen upright against his large and muscular frame.

“Jensen,” the witch repeats before he takes another kiss.

Their bodies are flush together, and Jensen can feel the other man’s warmth everywhere as it bleeds in against the cold dampness of his clothes. His cock hardens, but his mind refuses to feel shame, instead pointing out that the witch’s maleness is pressing in against Jensen’s stomach with equal eagerness.

He’s bewitched. He knows it to his core, but his well trained and disciplined brain refuses to think of anything other than how perfect it all is. It makes him dizzy with lust, and just like that he loses control. He goes from kissed to kisser, pushing the tall witch against the kitchen wall, stripping them both of their shirts and pressing back in with ferocity that he only ever displays when he’s on a hunt.

His protective talisman that he keeps about his neck digs into the smooth bronzed skin of the other man’s chest. The round, pink imprint it leaves is almost like a brand, and foreign feelings of possessiveness fight for space amongst the joy, horror and lust that are currently having a war in Jensen’s being.

“Jensen,” the witch moans again. His hands cup at Jensen’s ass, gripping the firm swell of it like they own it.

Shaking his head, Jensen breathes deeply and tries to center himself. “Name. What is your name?” He rasps out the question.

“You hunted me down and didn’t even know my name?”

“It was unimportant.” Jensen defends himself.

Thankfully – NO! Not thankfully, damn it all, unthankfully, most fully unthankfully, the witch looks more amused by the words than insulted.

“Jared,” the witch offers with a gentle smile.

And that right there tips the scales back towards the huntsman’s favor. Jared. The mere mention of that name has had Jensen seeing red and breathing betrayal for ages.

Jensen’s trusty hunting knife is at Jared’s throat in less than a blink of his creepy and not-at-all perfect fox eyes.

“Seriously? Dude, I am not into knife play.” Jared jokes, but the tremble in his muscles betrays his nervousness.

Jensen ignores him and tries to make his body push the blade in. Now that he looks, he can see the boy he knew in the twist of the witch’s mouth. The silly turn of his nose hasn’t changed and neither has the mole next to it. It isn’t just some man that shares Jared’s name. It’s Padalecki himself.

“Be quiet.” Jensen orders, though he isn’t sure if he’s talking to Jared or his increasingly aching heart. He isn’t used to his body fighting him. It hurts and yearns and doesn’t want to rid the world of the thing in front of it. Jensen’s being wants to coddle and protect and dote upon the man he is trying to kill, and it vexes him greatly.

“Jensen, look. I know that you’re dedicated, but don’t you think mutilating your own soul is a bit much? I mean, there isn’t even a reason for it. You’re all about the bad guy killing, and I’m not bad here.”

“You used me.” Jensen says. It comes out a lot more hurt and a lot less accusatory than he would have liked, but he’s always had a problem objectifying childhood hurts and horrors. It’s his Achilles heel, and he usually does his best to keep anyone from finding out just how much his past still bothers him.

Still, he figures he can earn a pass on his lapse in control. It isn’t often that one comes face to face with the source of one’s eternal angst. Well, maybe not the source given that he killed her in an oven before he was old enough to shave, but maybe the source of his eternal lonliness.

Jared doesn’t appear to be catching on to the program anyway. He just looks incredibly confused.

“You’re my mate. It’s like, physically impossible for me to use you. Our souls are bonded together in oneness. Now, I know that you’re hurt. I can feel that. Killing me is going to make you feel worse, not better. You’re going to have to trust me on that.” He seems so earnest when he talks, but Jensen chooses to ignore it.

“Trust you?” Jensen’s sure that his smile is as icy as the fist that had been holding him earlier. “What reason would I ever have for trusting the lowly worm that calls himself Jared Padalecki?”

A flash of pain starts throbbing behind Jensen’s eyeballs, and even though he stubbornly refuses to close them for a respite, tears start to track down his face.

“I thought you said you didn’t know my name.” Jared’s voice sounds strangled, and while Jared isn’t crying, Jensen can see the tears in his eyes.

“I…” Jensen stops himself and clenches his jaw in frustration. He wants to soothe the giant magic user, not put him out of his misery and rescue the poor mutts that he’s enslaved. He hates himself for that. He shouldn’t be so weak.

“Jensen, please. I… I don’t understand. Let me help you. I don’t like the way that you’re feeling right now.”

The hand that Jensen is using to hold the knife wavers before he reluctantly brings it down. He can’t bring himself to slit Jared’s throat. Angrily, he shoves away from the warm chest that he’s been leaning against, and stalks over to the kitchen sink. The faucet is dripping, and the sun is shining merrily through the window that is right above it. It looks cheery even though it is surrounded by a deep blue counter that should never have been put in the same house as the horrible green flooring.

Jared’s hands settle over his shoulders, and Jensen flinches.

“Don’t touch me.” The words sound pathetic even to Jensen’s ears, and he’s the one trying to put some force into them.

Jared ignores him and tightens his grip, rubbing his thumbs against the tense muscles that Jensen’s been developing ever since he was a bawling, fat, snot nosed kid who’d just had the facts of life explained to him by his father.

Magic users were out to get him, and little Jay was the same as the rest. They were after the magic inside of Jensen, and he had to be a good boy and hide it away or the witches would come looking for him again. Sure, Jared was just a little kid, but he was actively using the taint inside of him. He was evil or would be soon. Jared wanted to steal his power to bolster his own for wicked deeds.

Poor, fat Hansel had been heartbroken, but he’d taken that pain and dug himself out of despairing child and straight into a restless and angry teenager who’d had his head screwed on just enough to realize that he needed an outlet before he lost himself completely. The power inside of him had always been just outside his grasp, and there was only one group of people that could teach him to control it without encouraging him to use it, so he became a huntsman. He merged his greatest fear in with his greatest passion and became a hero.

Only now he was a hero who wanted to bed down with his sworn enemy.

“We have to stop this. Please, Jared. If you ever cared for me at all, show mercy.” Jensen whispers. He can’t make his body move. Jared’s sway over him is too strong, and he can only pray that the requested mercy is on offer.

Jared’s hands leave his shoulders, and his arms wrap around Jensen’s waist. Jared’s chin comes to rest on Jensen’s shoulder, and the witch places a gentle kiss on his ear. The light touch inflames Jensen’s body with lust, and he shudders with it.

“I do not care for you, Jensen. I breathe for you. Don’t they cover mages in hunting school? We have only one soul mate, and I’m holding mine in my arms. I would never wish to harm you. Quite frankly, I’m astonished that you even managed to attempt to attack me.”

“No!” Jensen protested as he spun out of Jared’s grasp. “You can’t know that. We just…”

“Can’t keep our hands off each other? Can feel the other inside of us? Want to strip naked and writhe together in bed until our bodies are sore from sating our lust for each other? What part of that doesn’t sound like late onset mating to you? You think that I’d let some guy I’ve never met before come into my house and attack my dogs then kiss him if he wasn’t my mate?” Jared is starting to look annoyed, and Jensen can feel an echo of the feeling building inside himself.

Jared takes a calming breath and blows it out before continuing. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t think that my mate was going to be some hard bitten hunter. Hell, man, I didn’t even think I was ever going to set eyes on you. Do you know how rare it is for a mage to go so long without meeting their other half? I thought you were dead. It was like you were hidden from my magic.”

“Oh, yeah. You were really concerned about that. Never set eyes on me before, Jared? Or never fucking looked?” Jensen asks coldly.

“What the fuck is your deal?” Jared yells back, shoving a hand through his hair.

“My deal is that I hate being lied to, deceived or otherwise hornswoggled. Take a deep look at your ‘mate’ here. Doesn’t anything seem just the smallest bit familiar? Or are you finally ready to admit that you’re lying to me?” Jensen’s eyes try to look anywhere but Jared, but they keep trailing back to the other man’s face. Inside of him, he just wants Jared to make it all better, and he knows that isn’t going to happen, not with a witch.

Jared stares at him for a long while. The only sound in the kitchen is the soft wheeze of the dogs in their enforced slumber and the annoying drip of the faucet. Jensen really hates leaky faucets. The first thing he is going to do when he moves in is fix the damned thing. Seriously, he isn’t even going to unpack his bags first. One would think that a powerful mage would be able to repair a sink.

Shaking his head, Jensen tries to derail that train of thought. He isn’t going to be moving in anywhere.

“Hansel?” Jared’s voice is soft, and there is recognition in his expression. A part of Jensen thrills at it because it’s proof that maybe Jared didn’t recognize him at first.

But other parts of him point out that in every case he’s heard of, mates bond on first contact, sometimes first sight, with each other. Mages can’t be all that different from their mystically bonding counterparts. Instant bonding very obviously did not happen between them in the past, so it is all still just some horrible trick in the present.

“It doesn’t matter. Look…” Jensen isn’t sure how to finish his sentence, but that appears to be fine because Jared’s attempting to suffocate him via hug.

“Hansel,” he mumbles into Jensen’s hair, “I missed you so much.”

“Let go. Damn it, Jared! Let me go!” Jensen struggles to get out of the embrace, but Jared doesn’t back up. Instead he starts murmuring soothing words in Jensen’s ear, cooing to him and rubbing his hand back and forth.

Jensen wants to fight Jared, or he wants to want to fight Jared. He’s not sure which anymore. Being back in the circle of Jared’s arms is making his libido skyrocket, and half of his brain keeps insisting that Jared is safe. Worse, it tells him that Jared is his, and they need to be with each other always.

Confused and not a little tired, Jensen sags into Jared’s embrace. This was all supposed to be such a simple fight, and now he’s stuck having an epic war all within himself.

“I hate you.” Jensen tells Jared.

An echo of hurt flitters around inside of him, and Jared takes a shuddery breath. “Well, gotta be honest, that kind of sucks because I love you. I don’t know why you won’t accept that.”

“Probably because you’re lying to me and have me under some sort of love spell.” Jensen points out.

“Are you insane? Do they do something to you when they make you a hunter, like make you smoke satyr weed or something? I’m not lying, and I’m not bewitching you. I’m a freaking mage, Jensen. I can’t fucking bewitch a, a squirrel.”

“Soul mates bond on first contact. And this isn’t ours.” Jensen says.

“Uh, yeah. After puberty. I was like eight the last time I saw you. And just so you know, you were my best friend, and I’ve hated your father for years for taking you away from me.”

Jensen wants to believe that. He really, really does if for no other reason than to have an excuse to hump the shit out of Jared’s muscular yet pelican like leg.

Logic dictates that Jensen should go and check the facts out. If Jared really loves him, he’ll let him use the phone to call a few research friends to make sure that Jared isn’t lying.

Apparently soul mating doesn’t work that way because the instant that Jensen even thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to hate Jared anymore, he’s got his tongue down Jared’s throat and is trying to manhandle the giant down onto the floor. It feels glorious, wonderful. It’s the best sex Jensen has ever had, and they’re not even heavily grinding against each other yet.

Then Jared is pushing back against him and fighting Jensen’s movements. It feels wrong, and Jensen growls in his throat before twisting just right and practically slamming Jared down on his back. He wastes no time straddling those dangerous looking hips and leaning forward to reclaim Jared’s lips.

There are noises coming from Jared’s throat, but Jensen ignores them as he leaves Jared’s mouth and starts to bite his way over a slightly stubbled jaw and down Jared’s seriously long neck.

A sharp tug on his hair gets him off course and puts one of his love bites out of line with the rest. Jensen glares up at Jared. He hates having his work messed with.

“I am not having sex with you on the kitchen floor with my drugged up dogs not three feet away. That’s both uncomfortable and uncomfortably creepy.” Jared tells him.

Jensen can see his point. Plus, he seems to be getting a free pass on drugging the dogs thing which, as he’s about to try to bind his essence to Jared for the rest of his life, is probably a good thing.

He obediently climbs off and gets to his feet. When he reaches down to extend a helping hand to Jared, the mage accepts it with a tiny grin on his lips. The feeling of naughtiness wells up in Jensen as Jared gets on his feet, and the source becomes clear a second later as Jared uses the offered hand to pull Jensen off balance and pick him up.

For a man who is approximately the size of a pubescent ogre, Jared is alarmingly fast. Jensen has no opportunity to get away, and once his feet are off the floor, he can’t try to get out of the hold without chancing injury.

If they were fighting, it would be no contest, but Jensen doesn’t like pain with his sex. He likes sex with his sex and lots and lots of it.

Jared barrels into his bedroom and tosses Jensen down on the bed. He doesn’t follow with his own body. Instead he stands in the middle of his bedroom and shimmies out of his jeans in an unflattering little dance. Not that Jensen’s dick cares, it’s very happy to see the extra skin being exposed. Besides, Jensen has to look even more ridiculous as he shucks the rest of his clothing. He’s flat on a bed, and he’s got wet denim on. Professional strippers can’t pull that off with any sort of grace.

Still at the end of it, both he and Jared are naked and that is what counts. That and the fact that they are both big boys that need to get it on as soon as possible. Their cocks are hard and leaking. The only acceptable solution to that is sex.

Jared’s stomach is tanned and cut. Actually, all of Jared is tanned and cut including his ass. Jensen feels a surge of jealousy go through him at the sight because that means that Jared’s been tanning in the buff and other people might’ve seen.

Jared chuckles as he looms over Jensen. “I should’ve just dropped my drawers earlier and saved us the trouble. You’re very possessive.”

That is true, but Jensen doesn’t admit it. He flips Jared over and straddles him again, taking up on his marking hickey chain that he’d started in the kitchen.

“I’m guessing you like to be on top?” Jared pants out as Jensen reaches Jared’s left nipple. It tightens as he bites at it, so instead of moving on, he keeps giving it tiny nips before pressing a kiss on it and answering Jared’s question.

“I like just about everything.”

Relief flits across Jared’s lust flushed face. “Good.”

“Afraid that you weren’t ever going to get to fuck a hole again?”

“Afraid that I was going to have to convince you to try something other than missionary position,” Jared says with a smirk.

And that does it. The challenge has been issued, and Jensen doesn’t back down from a challenge.

He wrestles Jared onto his stomach and yanks open the nightstand drawer to dig out Jared’s lube which is in its predictable place. It smells fruity and sweet and faintly magical when Jensen squeezes it out. Normally he’d never let anything close to that get anywhere near his beloved manhood, but his erection is throbbing. Jared is moaning and humping the bed, his pert, tanned ass flexing and bunching with his movements, and Jensen just can’t think about anything other than getting inside his mate.

His first finger slides right in, and he almost shoots just from the tight warmth around the digit. His second one makes Jared groan and cuss. The third one makes Jared whimper and all that twisting them does is make Jared demand to get fucked.

More specifically he says, “Get in me and mate us already. I need you in me fucking my tight little hole and pounding my prostate you cold hearted son of a bitch.”

It’s not romantic, but it works. Jensen yanks his fingers out, rolls a disgustingly pink and sparkly condom on and pushes inside.

Jared is warm and snug. Jensen doesn’t have a prayer of lasting. He starts thrusting almost immediately even though he knows better. Jared moans and rocks his hips encouragingly. It’s quick and dirty, and Jensen is ashamed to come before Jared does. It’s like his orgasm comes out of nowhere, like it was racing to get out of him as soon as possible.

Thankfully Jared doesn’t seem to notice. He humps the bed a few more times, working himself back on Jensen’s half hard cock, before he comes on his bedspread.

For a blessed moment Jensen feels calm and normal inside. Then he’s seeing stars, rainbows, fireworks and a pair of car headlights behind his eyes. It hurts and feels fantastic at the same time. He comes again even though he doesn’t have much left, and he’s nowhere near fully erect.

He thinks that the second orgasm thinks is something magical and mate-y, and he is so not going to ask about it.

Groaning, he pulls out of Jared and pulls the condom off not daring to look at how much come he just shot into the thing. 

He stumbles to his feet to search for a trashcan. Behind him, Jared makes a vaguely disgusted noise and mutters something about a wet spot.

Jensen feels ridiculously light and happy on the inside. All sunshine and roses and…

“Jared, why are there roses growing out of your sock drawer?”

“I’m a mage, and I’m happy.” Jared grunts from the bed, evidently he’s one of those guys that has to nap after sex.

“I’m so glad for you. Now about the unnatural flora in your bedroom…”

“Dude. Mage. Happy. Pretty flowers. It’s not rocket science.”

Jensen stares at the flowers for a moment longer before giving up and returning to the bed. There is a distinctive dark spot on it, and Jensen thinks he’s spent enough quality time with wet cloth for the day. With a quick yank, he manages to pull the bedspread off and out from under Jared’s massive bulk.

“And you say you don’t do magic.” Jared scoffs sleepily.

“Parlor tricks.” Jensen says dismissively as he climbs in to rest next to Jared.

“Mmmhh,” Jared comments as he reaches out to wrap a large hand around Jensen’s amulet. “I can feel your power inside of you. The coiled spring of a huntsman’s fire twisted around the heart of a gentle and beautiful soul.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Sleep, Jared.”

“Promise me you won’t kill Chad. You owe me for what you did to my dogs, and he’s really not all that bad.”

Jensen frowns. “Who is Chad?”

“The candy shop owner.”

“The slimy bastard that sells to any magic user indiscriminately?”

“Maybe?”

“I won’t kill him. I might want to, but my oath is to protect people against the forces of the supernatural. I can’t defend them against morally dubious humans and cavities.”

“Candy is good for you. Helps keep your magic strong.” Jared counters as his hand finally lets go of the round disc and starts plucking at Jensen’s nipple.

“It contains empty calories and is bad for you.”

Jared’s hand leaves Jensen’s nipple alone and trails down to play with his soft cock. It’s sensitive, but Jared’s touch is knowingly gentle as he rolls over it with his fingertips.

“Jare…” Jensen gasps as it starts to stiffen. It’s not natural. It can’t be.

“We need to mate again.” Jared tells him softly.

“Wha…?” Jared cuts him off with a kiss.

“I want you. I want in you.” Jared tells him.

Jensen swallows as lust starts to push in on him again. “And after that?”

“After that, you’re going to eat those damn coffee flavored truffles that your cravings induced me to buy, because I can’t stand them.”

“I’m not going to…”

This time Jared cuts him off with a tug to his cock. “You’re going to quit being so afraid of yourself and the power inside of you. If it hadn’t been for that power, you would never have defeated that witch. It is something to be nurtured, not hidden away.”

“I don’t think we agree on that.” Jensen says even as his hips push up against Jared’s bulk, seeking relief from his mate’s body.

Jared shakes his head softly and smiles. “Don’t worry about it. I have plenty of time to change your mind.”


End file.
